The Grandmaster Gambit
by whoneedsahero12
Summary: "She felt like a chess player who, by the clever handling of his pieces, sees the game taking the course intended" –The Kiss, Kate Chopin. My entry for the Tomione BigBang on Tumblr. Tom goes to school with her in the 1990s AU. Slowbuild and covers about 20 years. Rated M for eventual events. Warnings: Violence, Death, Language, Sexual Content, Gaslighting. Part 4/7 up.
1. Part 1

The Grandmaster Gambit

Tomione AU for the BB'14 challenge

Rating: M

Warnings:_ Violence, Mentions of Death, Language, Sexual Content, Gaslighting, Kinks: student-teacher relationship, power imbalance_

**Just as a reference for everyone: Hermione is born 9/19/79. Tom is born 12/31/76**

**PART 1: **

**(BEFORE: 1986)**

Hermione was wandering along the rocks of the beach where her family was on vacation when she heard a cry. Without thinking, she darted towards the noise. Hermione ran into a cave and saw three children a few years older than her. Two boys, one dark haired and one blonde, and a little red headed girl were huddled by the cave wall.

"Tom, I don't like this," the girl cried.

"It's just a little bit further, Amy, don't be a baby." Something about dark-haired boy's (Tom?) voice threw her off. It sounded sinister and menacing. Hermione didn't know where he was leading the other two children, but she didn't like it. Hermione's hands began to shake, as they always did when the _odd things_ happened. Suddenly, the rock wall next to her began to splinter and crack, and Hermione shrieked.

"Help! Somebody help me!" Rock began to fall down on her, and she shielded herself with her arms.

"Amy, let's get out of here!" the blonde boy stammered before grabbing Amy's hand and sprinting out of the cave. The other boy, Tom, tackled Hermione, moving her away from all of the rocks. _Or was it that he had stopped the rocks from moving altogether? _She wasn't sure. Hermione began to cry; this was all so scary. Tom scooped her up and carried her out of the cave, heading in the same direction she had entered.

"Sshh. Ssshhh. It's ok; you're alright now," he cooed in a much warmer voice. _It's suits him_, she thought to herself. "You're bleeding," he gasped, nearly dropping her. He laid her down on the beach and kneeled beside her. "It' really deep – I don't know if I can fix it," he said in a panic.

"My mum and dad will know what to do. They're doctors."

"No!" He backed away from her, now just as frightened as she felt. "No doctors!"

"They're dentists actually," she informed him.

"Oh," he sighed before crawling back over to her. "If you promise not to tell, I'll heal you."

"I promise," she said as she held out her pinky. He locked pinkies with her before untangling himself and holding his hands over her forehead. It stayed quiet like that for a long time, with him cradling her head and her try to stay conscious. Slowly, her forehead felt much better, and when the cut was completely mended, he collapsed next to her.

"Are you ok?"

He shook his head. "I've never done that before."

"Are you hurt too?" He shook his head again.

"Just tired."

"I'll help you walk back," she sprung to her feet and offered out her hand. He cautiously took hold and pulled himself up. Despite their height difference, she still walked with her hand on his back, trying to support his much taller frame.

"Thank you for healing me." He shrugged it off as if it was not a big deal, but both knew it was. "I'm Hermione Granger. What's your name?"

". . . I don't like my name."

"Well, make a new name for yourself. You can be anything you want to be."

"Hmmm . . ." he mused. "I think I want to change my name to Lord Voldemort."

"That's silly," Hermione giggled.

"It's not silly at all," he huffed. "It's going to be an anagram of my real name." They had now reached the small little wooden boardwalk bridge that connected the beach to the grassy fields where the cars parked. A square object fell out of his pocket, and Hermione caught it. She'd never seen anything like it; it was a black square covered in smaller, colored squares.

"What is it?"

"It's a Rubik cube."

"Is it like a puzzle?"

"Sort of. You see, you have to match all the little squares of the same color. You can try it, if you want." He leaned against the wooden railing and watched her struggle with it for the next few minutes.

"I can't get it," she grumbled.

"Here," he said, placing his hands over hers, "I'll show you." With lightning speed, he twisted and turned the squares until they all matched.

"How'd you do that?"

"It just takes practice. You have to learn how it works before you figure out how to solve."

"That's neat."

"You can keep it, if you want." He handed the cube back to her.

"But isn't it yours?" That made Tom freeze; the truth was that he had stolen it from an older boy at the orphanage. She didn't need to know that, though, so he shrugged it off. "Thanks." She cupped the cube in one hand while she fished something out of her back pocket. "I've got something for you too."

"Oh, I don't need anything-" But she cut him off and pressed whatever it was into his hands.

"Please take it." She rested her hands on top of his, and he closed his palm around it. In the distance, he could hear a man and woman calling out for her. "I've got to leave now. Thank you for all of your help today!" Hermione stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek before darting off, leaving Tom alone on the bridge.

Still in a bit of shock, Tom numbly stood there, rubbing his cheek with his spare hand. Blinking out of his daze, he stared down at his occupied hand and opened it. In his now red palms, there was a small black chess piece. He stuffed it in his jean pockets before walking the other way and pretending there weren't tears in his eyes; it was the first gift given to Tom out of kindness.

**(BEFORE: 1991-1992)**

Hermione was scouting around the train for people to help her find the toad. She wanted to head down to the private compartments, but there were a group of boys in dark billowing robes blocking the main aisle way.

"Excuse me." None of the boys noticed. "Excuse me," she clipped in a much louder voice, tapping the boy in front of her on the shoulder. The boy, a tall, gaunt figure with dark hair, turned around, and Hermione had to swallow her gasp. It was the boy from the cliffs, all those years ago. But he didn't seem to recognize her, tilting his head to one side and squinting with eyes void of any emotion.

"May I move past you?" She tried to say calmly, but it came out as more of a nervous squeak. He nodded his head, somehow commanding all of the boys to point to aisle way so she could move through. "Thank you," she mumbled, walking in long strides before whipping back around. "Oh, have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one." The blonde boy next to Tom snorted, but a quick glare from the dark-haired boy stopped him. She noticed how all of them were wearing robes and ties trimmed in green. _They're Slytherin, _she noted, _they value ambition and cunning_ . . ._ can I trust them?_

"No, we haven't." His voice was cold and crisp, the same as how it first was in the caves. He smiled with all of his teeth and the corners of his mouth were upturned, but the smile sent chills up her spine. Tom was smiling like a cat would when it had just gobbled up a bird.

"Alright, well, thank you." Hermione turned around and walked away as quickly as her legs would let her.

Tom watched her walk away before resuming his planning with the Knights. The weight of the chess piece suddenly felt heavier in his pant pocket than it had before, and he palmed it with anticipation. He couldn't help but smile, even after she was gone. _It's good to see you again, Hermione Granger. _

X*X*X

During the open ceremonies, Tom was disappointed to find that Hermione was put in Gryffindor. He barely saw her because 4th years and 1st years never interacted. The only time he did see her was in the library, where she would ferociously dive into a stack of books.

No one knew for certain what had happened with the Philosopher's stone at the end of the year, other than that horrible professor Quirrell has mysteriously disappeared and that three first years were involved. And Hermione was one of them.

But Tom didn't give it much thought; he was too busy trying to figure out the labyrinth of tunnels in the school. Unfortunately, it wasn't until the end of the year that he discovered the secret passage way to the Chamber hidden in a sink in a bathroom (Tom disregarded that it was a girl's bathroom; Salazar was obviously just be conscientious that the heir to unlock the Chamber could have been a girl). He hadn't yet dared to awaken the Basilisk – there was still so much to plan before he unleashed it on the school.


	2. Part 2

**PART 2**

**(BEFORE: 1992-1993)**

Tom's school year had gone swimmingly; he was top of the class (shocker) and he had been able to open the Chamber of Secrets. The Basilisk was a great companion – their conversations together were far more engaging than any of the ones he had had with his classmates. And while the Basilisk had been able to possess a first year – that Weasley girl – to do its bidding and help with the blood writing, it had gone too far when it had paralyzed so many students, including (much to his chagrin) Hermione.

He had been there on the night she came in. Tom had kept up his façade of helpful student by helping Madame Pomfrey in the infirmary, and he was stocking the medicine shelves after Hermione had been brought in when he overheard Madame Pomfrey gossiping with someone over tea.

"Whatever was she doing in the library?"

"I thought she was studying, as per usual. She spends more time in there than I do. But then they found that paper in her hand." It was Madame Pince; Tom recognized the high-pitched screech of her voice.

"What did it say?"

"We don't know. It's wrapped up in her palm. We don't know where it came from either – I would have been alerted if a page were ripped out of a school book."

"How could she have gotten it then?"

"I don't know." In a much lower tone, Pince hissed, "I suspect that _someone on the inside_ knew what was going on and planted it for her."

"Probably another Slytherin, seeing as how the messages around the school have been against muggleborns."

"Nasty lot, those Slytherins."

"Not all of them," Pomfrey dismissed, "Tom Riddle is the nicest young man in this school."

Madame Pince snorted at this. "If you saw what he read in the library, you'd think otherwise. He does extensive research on the _dark arts."_

"Maybe he wants to become an auror; I doubt there's any foul play there, Irma. But how was she paralyzed?"

"You know how they found that mirror on her? Well, Hermione's not the kind of girl who is concerned with beauty – my guess is that she was might have been trying to lure out _whatever_ it is that is attacking the children."

"Oh, because it's all based on reflections!" Tom nearly dropped the glass in his hands – how could his intricate plan have shattered so quickly, and all because of one girl!

"Well, you know the Ministry wants to shut the school down now." Tom had begun to panic –he wasn't prepared the only home he'd ever known for the sake of purging the Wizarding race; that could wait.

"Oh, Dumbledore won't let that happen."

"No, but they can remove him from his post."

"That's horrible!" In his mind, he had already begun to formulate a plan. He would command the Basilisk to sleep and then frame the Groundskeeper, Hagrid.

But just at that moment, Professor Slughorn barged into the infirmary. "Poppy, Irma, come quickly. We're having an emergency staff meeting about this _thing. _Professor Lockhart has offered to investigate the matter."

Madame Pince sighed, "He's an _idiot_ and a _phony_. I don't have any idea why the school even hired him. They really should have hired that Lupin boy instead."

"You know they couldn't do that – not with his condition." The three left the room in a hurry. Tom had popped his head out of the supply closet when it suddenly dawned on him that he would have to find a way to stop the Basilisk before things spiraled out of control and Lockhart tried to find the Chamber of Secrets. All his hard work seemed to have been for nothing at this point, and he had to contain his rage as he stormed off to the girls' bathroom to go down to the Chamber.

X*X*X

For an ancient creature, the Basilisk had understood of the situation. She knew that his life and hers would both be at risk if the attacks continued, and she was willing to go to sleep a little while longer if it meant she could keep her head.

He came back upstairs an hour later, but anger still boiled in his veins. He snuck back into the hospital to grab his bag when he spotted Hermione. Creeping towards her bed, he glared down at her with murder in his eyes.

He spoke in a voice barely above silence. "_I ought to kill you. You've ruined everything for me_." But as he wrapped a hand around her icy neck, the anger in his heart melted. Her mouth was set up in a little 'o' and her eyes were wide with fear. _She looks just like she did then_, he remembered, recalling a younger version of her he had rescued in the caves. He couldn't bring himself to do it.

"_You've ruined everything for me_," he repeats. His hand falls from her neck as he collapses onto the stool next to her bed. "You have no idea; no one does!" He covered his face with his hands. "They don't understand what it's like to know what the first thing you did on this Earth was to kill your mother!

"I didn't mean to do it. The again, I don't know whether I really did or not; I was only a few minutes old. And then to be told by everyone that I was nobody and that I would amount to nothing…it makes you bitter. It made me angry. Because I knew! I knew I was different and that I was special, and that they were too blind to see it!" He paused for a moment to regain his composure.

"But here they knew. They understood that I was meant for great things. I had power, I had respect . . . but still I felt something was missing. How can one be the king if they don't have their crown? And I thought by opening the Chamber of Secrets and proving I'm Salazar's heir that it would . . . Well, it doesn't matter what would happen now, does it? I nearly shut down the school – the only place I can think of as a home; the only place where people think I have value."

He paused to clamp the bridge of his nose and regain his calm façade. "This is only a detour in my plans. The battle is lost but the war is still on the horizon. I'm going to continue Salazar's work and prove I am worthy of being the Heir. I have to. Because my mother was a squib who tainted our bloodline with muggle blood. And now I have to clean it up."

"I told you once that I hated my name, and now I have even more reason to. My father is also Tom Riddle, which makes me 'junior'. And what makes it worse is that I have tried to contact him, and he refuses to acknowledge my existence. He's known about me this whole time, and still he will not take ownership!" Tom was near his breaking point. "It's one thing to have strangers ignore you, but your own father-!" He slammed his fist down on the bed. "He could have prevented all of my psychopathic tendencies and the trauma by just _claiming _me. Even living in the closet and working as a servant for scraps on the table would have been better than the childhood I went through!"

He clasped his shaking hands and forced himself to breathe deeply. "But he'll pay. He and his stupid mother and father too. They'll pay the price for what they've done to me!" With revived fervor, Tom rose from the stool and began to walk away before he turned back and addressed Hermione one more time.

"Don't think you're safe, Hermione. Just because the Basilisk is gone doesn't mean there's danger out there. Maybe not now, but one day, you'll suffer the consequences of forcing me to close the Chamber." He examined her closely, titling his head. "It's a pity you're a muggle-born; supposedly you're the top of your class. If only you were worthy of my presence, I would have told you all that while you were conscious." And with that, Tom strolled out of the hospital.

What he didn't know was that Hermione had very much been conscious. The Basilisk may have physically paralyzed her, but mentally she was whirling. And in her frozen state, Hermione felt a flame of panic burning in her heart.

X*X*X

As soon as Hermione was unfrozen, she dashed off to Dumbledore's office. He was in a meeting with some of the other faculty when she burst into the room.

"Sir, I need to talk to you." Dumbledore shooed away his staff and made sure they had all left before letting her speak.

"What is it, my child?"

"It's about Tom Riddle, sir…"


	3. Part 3

**PART 3 **

**(BEFORE: 1993-1994)**

Hermione and Dumbledore continued their discussion from the end of the school year over letters during the summer. They both understood the gravity of the situation at hand, and were equally determined to prevent further harm. Dumbledore promised to take care of the Riddle family – supposedly moving them to Switzerland, but Hermione's fears were not quelled.

"_We need to keep him busy," _she wrote in messy scrawl. "_He had too much free time before and managed to open the Chamber of Secrets."_ Dumbledore sent back vague and frankly empty letters in return guaranteeing Mr. Riddle would have very limited time due to a certain "project" the school was pursuing.

"_I might need you to personally keep an eye on him too, though. Teacher and student interactions are very limited," _he had written in cool cursive. "_And I trust that you'll be able to impartially observe him."_

X*X*X

Tom was still livid over the disappearance of the Riddle family. When he had visited Little Hangleton early in the summer, it had been declared by all the townspeople that the Riddles had not lived there for the past 5 years. Many had even mistaken Tom for his father upon first sighting. The ability to enact revenge had slipped out of his fingers once again.

And another teacher had been funneled through the Hogwarts washing machine. Shame too, because Professor Lupin had been the best DADA teacher Tom had learned under. But, unfortunately, his nightly habits (with his husband Sirius and under the moon) were made public and he was forced to leave.

Tom saw Hermione a bit more frequently; both of them were given time turners for their extra classes, and they often spotted each other in passing. Sometimes she'd wave hello, but more often than not, it was a curt nod while they both darted off to their next destination. He would have been tempted to keep his at the end of the year, but even he had to admit the strain it had put on him, His sleep cycle became abnormal and his behavior erratic. It didn't help that he spent many late nights in the Restricted Section. Hermione was there too, sitting in the opposite side of the library. He had passed her one night and found her to be intensely reading a passage on werewolves. It appeared that Hermione had known about Lupin's lycanthropy long before the rest of the student body.

Lucky for Tom, his extensive research on immortality paid off and he discovered horcruxes. Only downside was that he was too busy to kill people this semester to make them. It'd have to wait.

**(BEFORE: 1994-1995)**

Tom had been surprised when Dumbledore had allowed him to stay at Hogwarts over the summer. He was sure the old coot wanted him to suffer one last summer at Wool's. However, Tom had no time to venture outside of the Hogwarts grounds because he was busy helping a new professor, Severus Snape, move in. Snape had traveled the world, working as a potion and spell developer. Slughorn had requested that Snape work as his co-teacher; the older man wanted to retire in a few years. Tom couldn't help but feel blessed; not only had the teacher shared private information with him, but he was also going to be Head Boy!

But there were more new teachers and things to come. The new DADA teacher, "Mad-Eye" Moody, was a brilliant wizard with a dark sense of humor Tom appreciated. Additionally, the school was hosting the TriWizard tournament this year, and the ground were teaming with students all of backgrounds.

Unfortunately, all of the festivities distracted the teachers from their duties, especially for the 7th year career goals and NEWT classes. Luckily for him, his career goal was teaching, so he was able to shadow Professor Snape and Slughorn, as well as Mad-Eye.

X*X*X

The Yule Ball was rather dull. It was made up of bad hairband music, teachers trying to relive their youth, and awkward youth trying to dance. Tom was lounging at one of the spare tables; the other Knights were dispersed throughout the room, dancing or drinking from the suspicious smelling punch. He spotted Hermione from across the room during the Yule Ball, and around him, his classmates gossiped about her new look.

"Is that _Granger_?"

"My god – she looks like a human being for once!" Tom whipped his head around from where he was reclining at a table and stared down the offender. It was that horrible dimwit who thought he owned the school – _what's his name again? Ah yes, Malfoy._

"What a slut," commented his date, the pug-like girl, _Parkinson, I recall? _ "First she screwed Harry, now she's with Krum."

"I bet you fifty galleons that next is a house elf. You know what a nutter she is about that _spew _thing," sneered a gangly teenage girl next to the pug.

"Ugh, just the thought of it makes _me _want to spew!" This sent both girls into a roaring fit of ugly laughter, and Tom felt the all too familiar twinge of rage in his heart.

"How do you know she slept those young men?" He asks. The laughter stops as the girls gawk at them – he was Slytherin royalty (and Head Boy) and this was their first conversation.

"Wha?" asked the tall one.

"How do you know she's pursued sexual relations with either of those young men? Did you magically become best friends with her and learn all of her secrets?"

"Well, Rita Skeeter was saying…"

"Rita Skeeter is the biggest doorknob I've ever met, and she doesn't know Dumbledore from a house-elf. She's not a valid source."

"Well, even if she didn't _sleep _with them, she's still a slut," snorted Pansy.

"How does dating men make her a 'slut'?

"Uh…."

"What does it matter if she's dating people? She could date a thousand men and still not be a slut. Why does it matter to you two?" They continued to stare at him in awe. "Ah, that's right. Because you're jealous. She's smarter than you _and _now she's prettier than you." _Actually, she always_ _been prettier_.

"Instead of attacking others because **you're **insecure, why don't you try to find ways to improve yourself? Prove that you are worthy of being in Slytherin. Because right now, I'd much rather be associated with the likes of a grindylow." And with that, Tom strode away from the gasping girls, crossed the room to Hermione where had been sitting with two other Gryffindors, _the Weasley girl and the Longbottom boy, _and held out his hand. She looked up at him curiously.

"Care to dance?" She glanced over at the ginger before responding.

"Yes," she rose to her feet and took his hand, "thank you." They walked out to the center of the dance floor and a quiet settled over the Great Hall. All eyes seemed to be directed towards them. A slow, Muggle jazz song oozed out of the speakers and they settled into their spots.

"_Unforgettable . . . that's what you are," _Nat King Cole crooned. Hermione and Tom sway together. As much as he hated to admit it, muggle music, especially classical and jazz, was tolerable. Maybe even likable.

"_Unforgettable. . .tho' near or far"_ He couldn't help but notice her attention was elsewhere and he craned his head to see what she was looking at. Dumbledore sent an approving nod their way, and she quickly snapped her head back, lightly knocking his chin.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." They settled into the dance again, and, somehow, in the midst of the song, their bodies leaned in further towards each other. Her head nested into his shoulder and he rested his head on hers. Time seemed to slip away, and when Nat King Cole's voice faded, they stayed frozen in their place. It wasn't until a loud guitar strum reverberated throughout the room that they snapped out of it. They untangled from each other and Tom separated himself, disappearing back into the crowd as mysteriously as he arrived.

Hermione made her way over to where Harry and Ron were brooding. With a dazed look on her face, she remarked, "It's hot, isn't it?"

Ron snarled, "You would know, wouldn't you?"

"What put you in such a bad mood?"

Gesturing wildly across the hall, Ron exclaimed, "He's from Slytherin; you're fraternizing with the enemy!"

"The enemy? Who was it that wanted to cozy up to him so he could get a prefect position? Besides, the whole point of the competition is to encourage school unity – to make friends with other houses."

"Hmph. Well, it looks like he's got a bit more than friendship on his mind."

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

"He's using you!"

"What?!"

"You know it's true. A guy like that doesn't dance with a girl unless there's something in it for him."

"Well, I can take care of myself, Ronald."

"I doubt it; you were like melted ice-cream in his arms back there. You wouldn't last more than five minutes before taking your clothes off for him. Pretty soon, you'd be his little pet, and he'd have you on a leash calling yourself Mudblood." A bolt of anger flashed in her eyes, and suddenly her wand was drawn and pointed at his neck.

"How dare you! You know **nothing** about how I think or feel or anything! You have no right to insinuate any of those things." She pressed the wand a little harder into his neck. "If I hear of you making any sort of foul comment like that ever again – regardless of whom it is directed towards – I will _skin_ you, do you understand?" Tom watched from afar, a knowing look on his face. While he was proud of her for standing up to the sexist and frankly horrible bastard, he knew that she would lower her wand eventually and let him go, never really showcasing her power. _What a waste_, he thought_; she could have pummeled him with one blow._

Harry tried to resolve the situation, leaning in and whispering, "Hermione, he doesn't mean it. He's just jealous."

"That doesn't justify his comments!" She lowered her wand but her gaze still scorched holes into Ron's head. "Next time there's a ball he needs to pluck up the courage and ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

"Well . . . ugh . . . um . . . that's completely off the point," Ron mumbled. "Uh, Harry! Hey Harry, let's go!" Ron linked arms with Harry before bolting out of the ballroom. Hermione collapsed into the chair and clutched her fists. She clenched and released, clenched and released, just like her parents had taught her to do whenever she got mad. This was one of the methods they had tried to encourage in order to prevent _episodes _ of uncontrolled magic when she was younger. But her anger rippled through her and activated the deepest reserves of her magic, causing an electric-like field to pulse around her. Those around her who had noticed the argument gossiped incessantly. Only Victor Krum dared to approach her.

"Hermy-own-ninny? Are you alrivt?"

"No."

"Vould you like some punch?"

"No, I think I'll just get some fresh air."

"Can I go vith you?"

"I need to be alone, but thank you." She squeezed his hand before walking out of the Great Hall and heading to the courtyard.

X*X*X

"Well done Miss Granger, I told you dressing up would work." She turned around and found that Dumbledore was standing behind the bench she was sitting on.

"Are you sure you didn't Imperio him?"

"What do you mean?" He sat down next to her.

"His behavior seemed . . . unnatural. He was so calm – pleasant, even."

"It was most likely a façade. But he does seem to have a soft spot for you. And we must take the upmost advantage of that weakness."

"How so, sir?"

"I'm not quite sure, Hermione. I would frankly like your input on the matter."

"What we need is a way to guarantee surveillance of him after graduation. We only have a few more months until he leaves. What has he been focusing on as his career path for the NEWTs?"

"Teaching," Dumbledore sighed, "which I have advised against. It doesn't seem wise to have him near young, impressionable minds. We have him training under Severus as well for spell creation – seems to have a knack for it."

"Professor, don't you see? Having him become a teacher here secures our ability to watch him. And as his boss, you'd be in charge of him. And I'd be his student, so I could report any ill treatment towards other kids. Plus, you said Snape knows what we're doing, right? So if Snape befriends him and keeps him distracted, that's just another layer of reconnaissance."

"But what if he opens the Chamber again?"

"He'll be too busy grading papers and making students miserable. Sir, please. Let him interview for the job."

"He's just so young."

"But he'll probably be the most qualified applicant you'll have. And he'll be a source of stability. So far there's been a new DADA professor every year. I think everyone would like some consistency for a change." She stood up and brushed the snow off her dress.

"I'll let him apply. But Hermione-" Dumbledore grabbed her hand, "I'm not making any guarantees."

"Thank you professor." Hermione beamed before rushing back inside.

"I just hope you're making the right call," Dumbledore mumbled to himself.

X*X*X

Around June, after the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, Tom was called into the Headmaster's office. He found all the teachers standing inside.

"Headmaster, is everything alright?"

"Yes, Tom. Everything is just fine." Tom couldn't help but notice the lack of the customary warmth in the old man's voice. "It is to our knowledge that you are interested in teaching, Tom. Is this true?"

"Yes, sir." _What was the old man getting at?_

"Where are you planning on teaching?"

"Preferably here. But I'll travel where ever they'll take me." The other teachers smiled at him, Slughorn even nudged McGonagall and mumbled something to her in a cheery tone.

"Do you have a particular subject in mind?"

"Oh, any sir. I just want the opportunity to pass on my knowledge and help others learn." Pince sent him an approving nod, but Dumbledore didn't seem satisfied.

"Now, Tom, where does this desire stem from?"

Tom paused for a moment before responding. "I'm not sure many of you know, but I was raised in an orphanage. And as a treat during the summer, we'd go to the beach. And once, I was almost ten, I had been exploring a cave when a little girl followed me in. The girl became scared and made the rocks shake – I presume she was magical in some way. Well, we were able to get out of the cave in time before it collapsed, but she was still scared. So I gave her my Rubik Cube to play with." The teachers looked at him, confused.

"For those of you who don't know, a Rubik Cube is a puzzle game of sorts. And she was a little girl, so she was struggling to solve it. But I walked her through it and explained one of the trade secrets of the puzzle, and it was like I had an epiphany." He ran his thumb over the chess piece in his pocket; he hoped they were buying the bullshit. The truth was that he still hadn't accessed all of Hogwarts secrets and he also wanted to spread his vision to people, but they didn't need to know that. "I still have the chess piece she gave me, actually." He took the black gaming piece out of his pocket to show them.

"That's very . . . touching, Tom," Dumbledore admitted.

"Oh, Albus, just give him the job!" Slughorn laugh.

Madame Pince agreed, "He's perfect for the job, Albus."

"Hire him!" Hagrid boomed. Tom blushed – he was frankly surprised by the amount of support he was receiving from the faculty.

"Hush, hush!" Dumbledore tried to quiet his staff. "Thomas Riddle. Would you like to be the new professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, seeing as how our last one was actually Grindlewald?"

"Yes sir, more than anything in the world!" The teachers cheered for him.

Dumbledore cautioned, "Now, you do realize that you'll be the youngest wizarding teacher hired ever."

"Age and wisdom do not belong to the same tree, Albus," Severus reminded him.

"But age and experience are."

"No offense, Albus, but your previous hires had plenty of 'experience' but had murderous or dangerous tendencies." Severus quipped.

"Give him a chance, Albus," McGonagall pleaded.

Dumbledore sighed. "Alright."

"Really?"

"Yes. You're hired." The teachers burst into an aggravated round of applause and pride swelled in Tom's chest. For once, everything seemed to be going right.


	4. Part 4

**PART 4**

**(BEFORE: 1995-1996)**

Tom was excited. He had set a rigorous course schedule, but the kids needed it to catch up after years of sketchy teaching methods. Slughorn had bought him a briefcase for graduation and Madame Pince had given him money for three new pairs of professional robes, both of which he was thankful for. He never needed to go back to Wools ever again. He was free and he was home. The only problem was the troll – Umbridge.

After Grindlewald's attack, the Ministry was on height and alert. Fudge was feeling the pressure from his more conservative supporters and thus sent an Inquisitor to Hogwarts in an attempt to look like he had control of the situation.

It was first period – fifth years – and the class had just settled down.

"Good morning students. My name is Professor Riddle. I hope you all of had a pleasant summer. However, now it is time to learn. Here is the syllabus," he sent out the packets of parchment through the air to each student. "Which includes how my grading system works, the various spells you will learn, and the major projects and papers you will have." Around him, the students mumbled nervously – no one had ever really been so organized or strict in their teaching for this subject.

Suddenly there was a high-pitched cough from the back of the room – Umbridge. Tom stared at the frog-like woman in utter disgust, and when he did not introduce her, she continued to cough. "Ma'am, I suggest you seem Madame Pomfrey about that cough. People will think you have something to say." A few of the students snickered, but most of them remained frozen in their seats in utter shock.

"Good morning, children." She tilted her head and battered her eyes at him. Tom had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"Obviously, many of you are most concerned about your end-of-year exams-" She interrupted him.

"Ordinary. Wizarding. Level. Examinations. O. . More commonly known as OWLs. Such a pleasant name, isn't it? It is the most important thing that will happen this year. Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so and the consequences may be-," she paused to shrug and giggle, "-severe."

He ignored her and kept speaking. "There is no need to worry about that, at least, not for this subject. Why? Because I will cover everything on that exam in depth, as well as material outside the scope of that test. Tests can only do so much for you, and it is my fullest belief that these defensive spells will not only prepare you for the outside world, but could also possibly save your life one day."

"It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which, after all, is what school is all about!"

Tom glared at her "And how's theory supposed to prepare them for what's out there?"

"There is nothing out there, dear. Who do you imagine wants to attack children, like yourself?" His vision turned red and he griped the corner of his desk. How dare she insinuate he was a child to whom she could speak down to!

Tom took a deep breath and returned to his lesson plan. "Now, if you could turn your books to page 9, I'd like to start with-"

Umbridge giggled from the back of the room. "They won't need _those_ textbooks. They're far too . . . dark. It would be much better if they had the Ministry approved textbook, Dark Arts Defence: Basics for Beginners."

"Ms. Umbridge-"

"I'd prefer to be called 'Professor' Umbridge."

"Well, _Ms. _Umbridge. This is my classroom, and I ask that you please respect that." In the second row, Hermione turned back towards Umbridge.

"Mam'm, the text you've suggested mentions nothing about using defensive spells."

"Using spells? Ha-ha! Why I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in the classroom!"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron questioned from the other side, making eye contact with Hermione. Hermione darted her eyes away – they hadn't spoken since the Yule Ball.

"You'll be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What use is that? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free."

"Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class."

Under her breathe, Hermione muttered, "It's not your class, you ignorant cow."

"The Tri-Wizard tournament wasn't risk free," Harry Potter quipped next to Ron.

"Accidents do happen to those who play games, Mr. Potter."

Tom was fuming. "So you're saying Grindlewald killing one of our own was an accident?"

"Now let me make this quite plain. You have been told that a certain, dark wizard is at large once again. This. Is. A. Lie."

Neville Longbottom spoke up. "It's not a lie! We saw him kill Cedric!"

"LIES!" She shouted.

"How is it a lie if we all saw it?" Hermione shrieked.

"He simply died."

Irritated, Hermione asked, "So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?"

"Cedric Diggory's death was of a tragic accident."

The Gryffindor stood up. "It was murder! Grindlewald killed him! You must know that!"

"ENOUGH! See me later Miss Granger for detention."

"She'll do no such thing," Tom declared as he strode towards her desk to stand between Hermione and Umbridge.

"If she wants to stay in school, she will."

"Only Dumbledore has the authority to remove students, not the Ministry, and certainly not you. You have no power in this school. You are meant to observe and report to your boss, making decisions only with _his _approval. That does not give you the right or ability to place yourself in every situation and try to take over!"

"I'm not taking over, I'm merely assisting your teaching," she smiled through forced teeth and beady eyes.

"I'd rather die than let you 'assist' or teach in my classroom."

"Be careful what you say, _Mr. Riddle_. I'm writing staff reviews, and the Ministry will learn of this!"

"Good, then they'll know he's doing something right," Hermione piped in.

"Your job hangs on a very thin thread, Thomas," she hissed at him.

"So will yours after I report you." He smiled heartlessly down at her. She babbled for a few seconds in shock before waddling out of the door. He inhaled deeply, ran his hands over his lapels and smoothed his hair down before calmly walking back to the front of the room. "Please turn to page 9; we're going to start with the disarming charm."

X*X*X

At the end of class, Hermione started packing her bag when she heard him say something.

"Huh?" she asked. He was currently being swarmed by a gaggle of new admirers, but his attention was focused on her.

"I need to speak to you. Right now." His tone was so stern that the girls all but ran out of the classroom. But Hermione stood her ground and continued packing her bag. In a snide tone, he remarked, "I know it's your tendency as a Gryffindor to fight over everything, but it's not worth it with Umbridge."

"I wasn't the only one fighting with her," she reminded him.

"I shouldn't have though. It was in a moment of anger."

"So what? You're just going to deny yourself all your emotions and feelings?"

"Yes, if it means it keeps those who are higher up on the food chain happy! Don't you get it? This whole thing – school, tests, homework, Quidditch – it's not about how well you do, it's about who you're connected to."

"No. No, I refuse to believe that Hogwarts is simply about networking. It is about preparation for the real world."

"And part of that preparation is your connections. You can be prepared all you want, but without the right contacts, you cannot get the work."

"What does this have to do with Umbridge?" She crossed her arms and huffed.

"She's powerful. Stupid and ugly and cruel, but powerful. If you want to go far in life, you'll need to occasionally appease people like her. You can't just tackle every issue head on; some subjects need finesse."

"I guess that's the difference between you and me. You're interested in what helps you win, and I'm interested in what's _right_."

"You're telling me that there's no sense of ambition in that big head of yours? That the Sorting Hat didn't for a moment contemplate putting you in the snake tank?" She remained quiet. He leaned in and placed both hands on her desk. "Don't tell me you aren't ambitious. You've been trying to prove yourself here since day one – memorizing the answers before the subject is even studied in class, befriending the teachers, taking on extra projects. You had to, really, because you're muggleborn. And that means you have to prove yourself even more. But you're shooting yourself in the foot if you think you're above the purebloods or the Slytherins or anyone else." She scoffed at this, but he kept talking. "Because despite your intelligence, they will **always** do better than you because they know more powerful people. And if you can't see that, you're an idiot."

She shook her head, "No. You're wrong."

He leaned in and sneered, "Then prove it." Hermione glared into the dark abyss of his eyes and he glared right back at her. They continued their angry silence until she heard the second bell.

"Shit." She rushed to pack her bag, but he stopped her.

"No need, I'll write you a pass." She thanked him quietly and darted off to her next class. But for the rest of the week, she was tormented by their conversation.

X*X*X

The rest of the year was alright. He was a tough teacher but she enjoyed his class. Despite his previous warnings, she continued to argue with Umbridge during her audits, which eventually encouraged more and more students to fight with the Ministry worker.

Towards the end of the year, she was having a discussion with Professor Dumbledore when Tom barged into the office.

"Headmaster! Oh," he hadn't noticed her till now, "I'm sorry. I just needed to ask you about the examinations?"

"Ah, yes. Hermione, would you excuse us? This is an urgent matter."

"Of course, Professor."

"We'll continue our chat at another point in time. Good night!" He called out to her as she skittered out of the room.

"Is everything alright?"

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore gestured for Tom to sit.

"She seemed flustered."

"Oh, well, yes. I would be too if the person I had just been talking about walked in on me."

"May I ask why I was the topic of conversation?"

"Hermione acts as my eyes and ears in the school, just as you did. I believe she'll be Head Girl soon."

"Yes, sir. But why was I being discussed?"

"She was simply giving me a performance report – you've gotten nothing but flying colors, by the way. And I value her commentary especially since…"

"Since what, sir?"

"Well, since Hermione Granger got you your job."

"I don't understand."

"I was concerned about letting you on because you are_ so _young, but she was able to persuade me. She has the highest regard for you." Tom's hands were clamped around the armrests and his knuckles were a snowy white. He smiled and nodded, but inside, Tom was on fire with embarrassment and anger. Just months ago, he had told her she lacked the connections to succeed in life, and yet she had secured his own job. The cruel irony of the whole thing! But more than anything, he felt the familiar prickles of hatred for Dumbledore spark again in his bloodstream. How dare he question his ability simply because of his youth!

"Now Tom, you mustn't tell Hermione a word of what I've said. I think she wanted to keep it a secret, for fear of wounding your pride." Tom bit down on his cheek and tasted iron and thick blood, forcing himself to only nod. "Good. Now, you were saying about the exams…"

The rest of the conversation was short and in quiet, clipped tones from Tom. He left in a determined, manic flourish, and Dumbledore grimaced to himself. He hated to do this to Hermione (invoking Tom's wrath) but he had no other way of truly gauging Tom's intentions and feelings without an observable target he could take his anger out on. Luckily, Hermione had a thick-skin, and she would be alright . . . at least, he hoped she would be.


End file.
